


Whole Again

by SaxSpieler



Series: Verǫld Vǫrðr [22]
Category: Runescape
Genre: Gen, Sliske's Endgame Spoilers, headcanons ahoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 11:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9232751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaxSpieler/pseuds/SaxSpieler
Summary: It happens in an instant.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Because Endgame gave no real send-off to Nomad (which, coupled with several other things, tells me that we still haven't quite seen the last of this guy), I wrote my own, specifically with regards to my World Guardian - an end to their conflict.

It happens in an instant.

Her lance carves through the air, sending a familiar double-pronged spear spinning off into nowhere, and a quick blast from her arm cannon is enough to send the wight careening backwards over the sprawled and dismembered Gregorovic.

He hits the ground, and Finley leaps forward, driving her lance as far as she can through his chest.

 _A mercy kill,_ she tells herself. _The only mercy I can show this hairless haverer at this point._

She lets out a cry as she does it - not a cry of pain or of sadness or of anger, but a cry of finality.

_It’s over._

The story of parallel souls, countless betrayals of trust, misplaced mercy, and a mountainous, four-armed god constructed of fused corpses is finally over.

The wight goes limp, familiar acidic blue eyes finally flickering out to a dull, empty gray, and what might be a sigh of relief catches Finley’s ears. But, she can’t be sure, not with the blood pounding in her ears and her own halting breaths.

In an instant, that ragged, splitting pain that had first torn through her chest at Sliske’s attempt to snatch her soul simply _ceases,_ ablated by an electric warmth that seems to flow from her lance and up her arms.

_Wholeness._

_Entirety._

_Healing._

The stolen bit of her soul, once stored in the wight beneath her, latches back into place, sewn back together by something that, at first, is not hers, but quickly becomes it.

A resonance that whispers with some feral, unhinged pride and determination before settling, almost nestling, into her soul.

And then, it _ignites._

Raw, primal energy flares in her chest, in her mind, and through every last nerve in her body. It urges her forward, to _finish this fight,_ and she stands, extracting her lance, ready to do exactly that.

She holds herself back, however. Just for a moment.

Reaching down, she carefully closes Nomad’s eyes, whispers a wish for rest in the Fremennik dialect, and eases his cape from her shoulders and drapes it over him.

Then, her gaze trails upward, landing on the _bastard,_ the _murder,_ the _snake_ who started all this.

 _“SLISKE!”_ she bellows, and her voice, for a moment, seems to be that of the entire world speaking as one. _“GET YER ARSE DOWN ‘ERE SO WE CAN FINISH THIS GAME!”_

His wild grin in response is matched only by the flashing of her eyes, the set of her teeth, and the taunting flourish of her lance.

She hasn’t felt this good, this confident, this undeniably ready in what might be decades.

_Finley Bannbreker is whole again._

_And she’s ready to fight._


End file.
